


French Lick, Indiana

by danwriteskink



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: M/M, Oral Fixation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danwriteskink/pseuds/danwriteskink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albert needs help quitting; Dale offers a distraction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	French Lick, Indiana

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Oral Fixation square in 2012 kink_bingo.

This arson case is going to swing on the particle analysis, which is why Albert hasn't had a cigarette in thirty six hours. They're in French Lick, Indiana, of all places, and the po-dunk mortuary lab doesn't have a laminar flow cabinet so he can't protect his samples from his own exhaled smoke. Albert would piss in his own drinking water before he contaminated evidence, so he has refrained from nicotine intake. Now, he's standing in the Sheriff's office, clenched like a fist while his skin crawls and his heart races. He can't even say it's irrational. He knows perfectly well on a cellular level how withdrawal works. He can't overwhelm biochemistry with sheer will. 

This report isn't going very well, he notes in a detached kind of way. The stenographer fled in tears fifteen minutes ago, the deputy is hunched angrily in his plastic chair, and the sheriff has the kind of expression that Albert normally only sees in deep rigor. The only locus of calm is Coop. Coop twirls a pen between his fingertips, then with deliberate calm, puts the end of it into his mouth. It sits there, in exactly the place where Albert nestles a cigarette so he can smoke and talk at the same time.

The room contracts, until there is only Albert and the pen in Cooper's mouth. He has kissed that mouth a time or two, though neither he nor Dale have yet given a name to their relationship. The pen slides across Cooper's lower lip, and Albert's tirade against French Lick falls away. With it go the cravings: Dale has cunningly found a biological imperative with more vehemence than chemical dependency. Albert shifts, snaps the folder closed and holds it in front of his pants, then recommences his report from memory, this time sans derogatory commentary. 

Cooper never lets go of the pen: it slides over his lower lip, he briefly rests his straight, white teeth on the end, occasionally shows the tip of his tongue. He does this all with that infuriating smile that is both smug and delighted at the same time. Fortunately Albert does not need his entire brain to deliver this report. 

At the end of the meeting, Sheriff Rigor Mortis has the ghost of a smile on his face as he shakes Coop's hand, and the Deputy of Notre Dame has relaxed his hunched shoulders. They've got what they need to solve this case. Of course they have; Albert doesn't half-ass his work, not even in nicotine withdrawal. 

"A word, Agent Cooper." Albert holds the door to the primitive lab open. 

"Sure, Albert." Coop gives the Sheriff an encouraging clap on the shoulder – how does he make them like him so much? – then squeezes past Albert with more pressure than is necessary to pass through the doorway. The door closes, and Albert's hand are on Coop's lapels, pushing him up and back against the wall. There's a heartbeat, then Albert's mouth is on Cooper's, hard and fast. Anger and the crawling need for nicotine recede to nothing, until there is nothing in the world but the smell of Dale, the taste of Dale. 

Later, they'll retreat to the privacy of Albert's shabby motel room, and work on defining this thing between them. For now, though, Albert is surprised to find that his appetite is completely assuaged.


End file.
